Almost an hour later, I am finally able to drag Dee away. Greg has been calling for the last fifteen minutes, asking why the hell we haven’t popped out of this ‘stupid fucking girly store’ yet. I can just picture him pacing the entrance to Neiman’s now. He would die before he stepped one badass foot in here. We walk out with six more bags. Six fucking bags. I swear I will end up selling a kidney to pay off my next credit card statement.
Greg is, as predicted, pacing in a tight line. When he finally spots us, he stops and crosses his arms over his bulky chest, throwing that scowl back in place. It wouldn’t kill him to at least look happy to be here, but even grumpy, I’m glad he’s here.
“Holy shit. Now that is definitely worth stopping our shopping for.”
I’m a little taken aback by Dee’s husky whisper. I was so focused on uncomfortable Greg that I hadn’t noticed the good-looking man next to him. Joe? No, that’s not right. I vaguely remember him from the club the last week. A friend of Greg’s, his boy, which means he is a friend of Axel’s too. Lovely. I really hope this isn’t some ploy from Greg to get me to open up. I don’t know how much these other men know about my past with Axel, but I won’t be opening up to him today.
Sauntering up to the men, Dee and I both take turns giving Greg warm hugs. He might annoy the shit out of me at times, but he means well. Right now, though, it’s hard to remember that he is coming from a good place with his caring and protectiveness.
I start thrusting bags into his arms, not even giving him a chance to reject them, looking over at Dee to see her practically drooling over the man standing next to Greg. She doesn’t even seem to notice her fingers turning blue from her heavy burdens. I look over at Greg with a twitch of my head at Dee and a smirk. He laughs but still looks pissed that I’m making him carry my bags.
“Dee, quit,” I whisper quietly at her. She shakes her head and looks over at me with rosy cheeks and lust-filled eyes. Oh-kay . . . Looks like Dee won’t be pissed about stopping this trip anymore.
Greg finally has all my bags in order, huffing his attitude. “You two remember Beck?” He jerks his head over at his friend. Beck! That’s right—John Beckett.
I mumble a hello but notice that he isn’t focusing on me. He and Dee are practically past foreplay and moving into some serious hot sex with their eyes. Interesting development here. Dee has her fun, but I can’t remember the last time she took interest in a man like this. She’s focused on her career, and for the last few years, her focus has been me. I feel guilty about possibly having kept her from finding love, but she insists that she wouldn’t have it any other way.
I look back at Greg to see if he has noticed the sparks flying between Dee and Beck and notice his shock matching my own.
I clear my throat, hoping to stop this eye fuck before they both have some weird orgasm in the middle of the mall. “So . . .”
Greg laughs when they both jerk like they got caught stealing. “You two want to stop this shopping shit and head over to Heavy’s for some BBQ?” he suggests, knowing that Heavy’s is my favorite place in town. Dirty trick. . . . Looks like he’s bringing out the big dogs today.
“Beck, did you know that sex is biochemically no different than eating large quantities of chocolate?” I can’t help but laugh at that one. Or maybe it’s his face alone that’s hilarious. Dee and I have spent the last hour sitting here spouting off useless sex facts. It’s hilarious to watch these two big men squirm. Greg is used to this, but Beck seems to be having an issue with our topic of choice, probably because he is still back at the mall having creepy eye sex with my best friend.
“It’s true, you know,” she pipes up. “I can get just enough pleasure from a bag of Kisses than I can from any man.” I look over at Dee and laugh so hard I have to hold my sides.
“You are not wrong, my friend. Kisses are so much more pleasurable than any of my battery operated boyfriends. Just as satisfying but no work necessary.” I think we are on our second—no, make that our fourth—pitcher of beer now, and my laughs are coming so frequently that I’m worried I might piss on myself at any moment.
“Iz, you’re nuts . . . Anything is better than a fucking dildo. I’m talking real men here, but throw me some chocolate and I’m golden.”
My laughter is coming even louder now when I see the shock of what she just said register on her face.
“Sugar,” Beck interrupts my ruckus with a wink, “if chocolate is more fulfilling than sex, then someone isn’t doing their job right.” He smiles back over at me but quickly turns his eyes back on Dee. A Dee who, I noticed, has gone silent again.
I’m sitting between Greg and Dee at the round high top we claimed when we arrived at Heavy’s. Greg keeps pushing more food in front of me. He must think he can somehow slow down my drunk by keeping me full of shit.
Whatever.